Now that we know we will be talking about money and finances and being frugal and such over here, let me tell you the first time I gave some it some thought, I mean the first time I felt that money meant something or could teach you something.
I was in fourth or fifth standard, studying in Indian School in Dubai (c’mon where else during that time!). When I was young, my parents never discussed money in front of us. My demands were pretty small, just an odd Dhm (Dirham is the currency in UAE) to buy something from the canteen. I never knew about the concept of pocket money and my parents always gave in to my very few requests.
One day, as soon as I reached my classroom, I realised that I had forgotten to bring something to eat for my snack break. No big deal, I would find something or so I thought.
In the classroom next to my desk sat a girl, right now I can’t recall the name of the girl but let us call her Anjana. Anjana was the quiet type; she would only talk when the teacher asked her a question. And me, I always talked. So the class teacher thought it would be a good idea to pair us up, just so that we could influence each other’s personalities – big fat chance I tell you...
OK so back to the day. It was the math class and we both were busy jotting down notes or maybe trying to solve a problem, I don’t know. All I remember is spotting a Dhm coin in Anjana’s open pencil box. I remember telling myself – I know where my lunch is coming from. You see during those days (early 80s) one Dirham could fetch you a sandwich, chips (crisps is what I call these now that I live in the UK) and a drink. It must have been during a break or something like that when I took this one Dhm from Anjana’s pencil box. Before you ask me – no I did not feel guilty at all. The plan was to quietly take it, use it and replace it the next day. And who would blame me for stealing just to have something to eat?
Snack break comes (we didn’t have lunch breaks then. Girls’ school shift was from 7:20 am to 1:00pm) and I go to the canteen, get my stuff and return to the classroom to eat. What do I see next? Our friend Anjana is sitting with a sad face with tears nearly spilling out. A recipe for disaster I know, but I had to ask Anjana what the matter was. “Chinty, I bought a Dhm to buy something from the canteen and now it is gone and I am feeling hungry.” Woww....where did this come from???
So like a nice girl, one that my parents would have been very proud of, I told Anjana that she could have my snack, the entire thing including the drink because I wasn’t hungry at all. And me, I sat there at my desk watching our friend Anjana gorge on the food that was entirely hers. I didn’t feel sad, bad or anything, just hungry, super hungry.
In the end my role was that of Anjana's personal maid - go to the canteen and buy her snack.
Moral of the story: Chinty, you are never ever going to enjoy someone else’s money – your pop’s perhaps, but no one else’s.
I was in fourth or fifth standard, studying in Indian School in Dubai (c’mon where else during that time!). When I was young, my parents never discussed money in front of us. My demands were pretty small, just an odd Dhm (Dirham is the currency in UAE) to buy something from the canteen. I never knew about the concept of pocket money and my parents always gave in to my very few requests.
One day, as soon as I reached my classroom, I realised that I had forgotten to bring something to eat for my snack break. No big deal, I would find something or so I thought.
In the classroom next to my desk sat a girl, right now I can’t recall the name of the girl but let us call her Anjana. Anjana was the quiet type; she would only talk when the teacher asked her a question. And me, I always talked. So the class teacher thought it would be a good idea to pair us up, just so that we could influence each other’s personalities – big fat chance I tell you...
OK so back to the day. It was the math class and we both were busy jotting down notes or maybe trying to solve a problem, I don’t know. All I remember is spotting a Dhm coin in Anjana’s open pencil box. I remember telling myself – I know where my lunch is coming from. You see during those days (early 80s) one Dirham could fetch you a sandwich, chips (crisps is what I call these now that I live in the UK) and a drink. It must have been during a break or something like that when I took this one Dhm from Anjana’s pencil box. Before you ask me – no I did not feel guilty at all. The plan was to quietly take it, use it and replace it the next day. And who would blame me for stealing just to have something to eat?
Snack break comes (we didn’t have lunch breaks then. Girls’ school shift was from 7:20 am to 1:00pm) and I go to the canteen, get my stuff and return to the classroom to eat. What do I see next? Our friend Anjana is sitting with a sad face with tears nearly spilling out. A recipe for disaster I know, but I had to ask Anjana what the matter was. “Chinty, I bought a Dhm to buy something from the canteen and now it is gone and I am feeling hungry.” Woww....where did this come from???
So like a nice girl, one that my parents would have been very proud of, I told Anjana that she could have my snack, the entire thing including the drink because I wasn’t hungry at all. And me, I sat there at my desk watching our friend Anjana gorge on the food that was entirely hers. I didn’t feel sad, bad or anything, just hungry, super hungry.
In the end my role was that of Anjana's personal maid - go to the canteen and buy her snack.
Moral of the story: Chinty, you are never ever going to enjoy someone else’s money – your pop’s perhaps, but no one else’s.
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